


Weight of the World

by Traxits



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, One Shot, Oral, Wordcount: 1.000-3.000, challengefic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-22
Updated: 2010-03-22
Packaged: 2017-10-08 05:39:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/73268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Traxits/pseuds/Traxits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The day that Cailan and Loghain leave for Ostagar, Anora finds comfort in a shoulder that she's been leaning on for quite some time now.  Comfort and goodbye, all in one all-to-brief moment, Anora and Cauthrien manage to find-- not words, but a means of communication all the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Weight of the World

**Author's Note:**

> This was actually inspired by the dragonage_kink meme, where someone requested: "Anora actually fine with Alistair shacking up with the Warden. Cordial, even. Why? Now that her father's gone, she can carry on with Cauthrien, so long as Alistair helps her keep up appearances for the public."
> 
> This doesn't quite fill that prompt, but it was definitely inspired by it. I immediately loved the idea of Ser Cauthrien and Anora together, but I decided to set mine pre-game instead of post. What can you do? Sometimes the stories are just a little different that you originally imagine them.

She was sitting, staring out the window at the gardens, blonde hair down and over her shoulder. Her fingers were slowly pulling through the silky mass, working out any tangles they crossed absently, without any real thought in the motion. Her eyes were almost unfocused, not looking at the view, breath-taking as it was. She blew out a soft breath, and when heavy hands landed on her shoulders, she leaned back into them, not even having to look. She _knew_ who it was.

She tilted her head back, her eyes narrowing to look up at the man leaning down over, his lips scarcely an inch from her own. "Hello, husband," she whispered, and then he was on her, his mouth soft, coaxing. She yielded to him-- she always did when she could, when he wasn't asking her the impossible. It made him happy, and she needed him as happy as she could keep him.

When he drew back, he smiled, and he moved to kneel just beside her chair, looking up at her gently. His hand moved up from her shoulder to cup the side of her face, to feel the weight of her leaning against him, trusting him. His thumb brushed over her cheek. "Hello, my Queen," he said, his own voice soft as hers.

"You'll be leaving soon." It wasn't a question. She knew; she had helped arrange the orders and the armies. He had insisted, despite her father's arguments. Cailan wanted her to know that he was trusting her; he had looked at her, communicated something that she had been unable to understand. It frightened her, to think that he might know something that he wasn't sharing, and yet if she tried to bring it up, he would simply caress her face, kiss her lips, distract her.

Her eyes lifted to look over his shoulder, and her heart stilled in her chest for just a moment. He was talking, but she couldn't hear him, didn't care what he was saying. Ser Cauthrien was standing just by the door, her expression carefully blank, her dark eyes looking right past her King and Queen, pretending that she wasn't intruding on a tender moment. She was there under Loghain's orders; to ensure that the queen was settled and well before she would take the last of the guard after Cailan and Loghain.

Anora swallowed, her focus shifting back on the man before her. His golden armor caught the sun, reflected it in dazzling patterns on the wall and over her own face. She hesitated only a minute, and then she reached for him, her fingers burying within his hair. He was expecting this-- expecting her to cry, to ask him once more, to try to stop him. She knew that she should, but at the same time, she knew it was impossible.

He was lost to her, doomed to chase this madness as far as the Wardens would lead him. Her lips touched his once more, and he pulled her close to him before he finally wrenched himself away. His helmet was picked up, and one last sad smile to her before he was out the door, laughing and joking with his men, as though he weren't riding out and leading them all to their death.

She hated this part. Slowly, she stood, and she forced a cheerful smile on her face as she strode out onto the balcony. In just a few minutes, Cailan was outside, his men in a loose group around him, and he was heading out, riding for Ostagar. Her father was waiting for him at the edge of the keep, and she waved to them both, wishing them silently to be _safe_. She wanted them both to come back to her. No matter how foolish Cailan was, he was her _husband_, and she loved him, in her own way.

She stood there, watching until she could see them no longer, and then she turned, looking at the woman standing so impassively by her door. "Ser Cauthrien," she said softly, and those dark eyes focused quickly, darting over to stare at her. Another moment, and then the lock was in place and Cauthrien had closed the distance between them. Her gloves were pulled off, one by one, and set on the nearby table, a soft clinking from the metal hitting the wood. Anora swallowed, looked up. Slender fingers reached up and touched the side of her face, held it in the same place Cailan had only moments before, and then that mouth was on hers, demanding and gentle all at once.

Cauthrien never treated her like some delicate flower; she _knew_, understood how strong her queen was, knew her breaking points. And she pushed them. She had ever since they had first confessed attraction for one another, whispered under the dark in the privacy of Anora's bedroom shortly after Cauthrien's arrival to Gwaren. They'd both been young then, young enough that stolen kisses were more than enough to sate their urges. Then it had grown, and the more time they spent together, the more they seemed to need.

Now, _knowing_ that Cauthrien could be marching to her death in only a day or so, Anora was desperate; she needed something, anything to ease the terrible fear in her chest, the tightness that wouldn't dissapate, no matter how much she tried to relax. With Cauthrien's lips on her own, one hand sliding around to hold the back of her neck, while the knight's other slid around her hip to pull her closer, Anora thought she might be able to do something about it. Actually be able to ease her fear, if only for a few moments.

She made a soft sound into the kiss-- her eyes closed, her head tilted-- and Cauthrien jerked her close. When she drew back to breathe, Cauthrien didn't let her get far, opting to trail the very tip of her tongue down and over Anora's throat, her fingers still firm on the nape of her neck. Anora's eyes opened, and she licked her bottom lip, just savoring the feel of how Cauthrien touched her, how _different_ it was from Cailan's too-careful fingers, his light kisses.

Teeth brushed over her skin, and Anora gasped softly, a little flutter ghosting down her back at the feel of warm breath over her throat. She pushed Cauthrien back then, tilting her head down to look at her knight, to meet those dark eyes with her own. She wanted to _see_ the passion igniting Cauthrien, wanted to _taste_ the longing that she knew was there, pooling just beneath the skin of her armored lover. She stepped back then, away from the window, toward the bed. Her hand lifted, motioning for Cauthrien to follow. The briefest of pauses, and then Cauthrien closed the drapes, looking over at her queen with a hunger that wasn't at all proper, one that the knight did well to hide when in public.

But they were not in public now, and Anora wanted to see it. To see that she could stir _someone_ to such passions, that she was capable of arousing someone to the point of such desire. It was intoxicating.

Cauthrien came to her then, reaching for her easily, and Anora allowed it, let the other woman pull her close, mold their bodies together for the space of time that it took for them to kiss. Then she was wriggling away; she was reaching for the buckles and laces that kept the wiry body of her lover hidden away. Within moments, practiced fingers had shed them of their clothing, and Anora was pushed back on the bed, Cauthrien crawling over her. Anora's eyes closed when Cauthrien's mouth touched her shoulder, then slid down. When she caught one of Anora's nipples between her lips, the queen moaned and fell back, not trying to hold herself up on her elbows any longer.

Her head was spinning as Cauthrien reached down between her legs, as one of those fingertips began to _rub_. Small tight circles that made her breathing hitch and her thighs tremble. That mouth was still on her nipple, still sucking and nipping and there was the slightest graze of teeth--

Then one of those fingers pushed _inside_, and Anora was moaning. Cauthrien was between her legs, and Anora was shivering under her, under the touch of the woman who _knew_ exactly where to touch, exactly _how_ to touch. Anora felt herself tightening, felt her body tensing for that one moment, _the_ moment-- a gasp-- and then she was limp against the bed, her eyes opening slowly. Cauthrien pulled back from her, and Anora caught _that_ hand, brought up to her own lips. Her eyes locked with her lover's dark ones, Anora slowly licked herself from Cauthrien's fingers. The other woman swallowed thickly.

Seeing Ser Cauthrien with such an expression was a rare treat; almost as enjoyable as what had just transpired. It caused a fresh wave of heat to course through her, pooling low in her belly, and Anora pulled on the hand she still had, forcing her knight to lean over her, putting their faces only inches from one another. Anora lifted her head, capturing Cauthrien's lips with her own, drinking in the soft moan from her lover as their bodies pressed against one another. Anora kissed desperately, _needing_ this, and then she rolled them, so that she ended up atop the other woman, her weight on Cauthrien's hips. She leaned back, her blond hair falling over her shoulders, long enough to brush the bottoms of her breasts, long enough to hide Cauthrien's hands as she reached up to cup those breasts.

Anora looked up then, letting herself drift for the briefest of moments as Cauthrien squeezed her lightly, and then she slid back, repositioning herself between her lover's thighs. Those hands caught her shoulders then, and Anora smiled as she got comfortable, then lowered herself.

Cauthrien cried out at the first touch of Anora's tongue, and the queen closed her eyes at the sound. She took her time, not letting the fingers lifting to tangle in her hair interfere. She licked, long and slow, tasting her lover, _drinking _her in. At Cauthrien's shuddering gasps, Anora pushed her tongue _inside_, the heat in her own body coiling tighter, threatening to spring at any moment, to spill down her thighs and--

Anora drew back then, just enough to find and lick at _that _spot, the one that made her knight lose it so beautifully. It was wondrous, to see Cauthrien-- stoic, follow-every-order Cauthrien-- so uncontrolled, so helpless under her ministrations, under _Anora's_ touch. It was something that Anora was certain she would never get used to, no matter how often it happened. Her eyes closed then, and those fingers tightened in her hair, nails scraping at her scalp. She sucked then, one of her hands working its way to where she could thrust two fingers into her lover. Another cry, this one pleading-- warning.

Her eyes closed as she felt Cauthrien's release, _felt_ the other woman tense and shudder, felt her fall limp against the bed under her. Anora drew back slowly, reaching up to wipe her mouth the back of her hand, her eyes opening to look at her lover. Cauthrien was trembling, gasping, her dark eyes still closed, one of her hands flat against the bed, the other clutching a fist full of blankets. Anora made a soft noise and smiled, leaning down over the other woman, their bodies flush against one another again.

She was still aching, her arousal peaked all over again at the sight of what she could _do_ to Cauthrien, at the proof of how she made the knight feel. She was a demanding lover, one that Cauthrien had spent years learning, one that had spent years learning Cauthrien in return. And now it was paying off. Cauthrien took a deep breath, her eyes opening to look up at her queen. It took only the space of a moment for her to _know_ what Anora wanted.

She didn't move them, just let Anora sit on top of her, her weight on Cauthrien's hips. Drawing another breath, Cauthrien released the blankets and placed her hands on Anora's thighs, rubbing them for just a moment before she slid one of them up higher, seeking out and finding the one spot that she needed. A _very_ small smile touched her lips as Anora gasped, as Anora blushed and averted her eyes.

It wasn't that she was shy-- far from it at this point, after so long with Cauthrien there was little that the two of them hadn't explored. It was simply that she never thought she would get used to the way that Cauthrien seemed to love watching her, to see her lifting her hands (there they went, on their own) to touch her own breasts, to see her gasping and moaning. It shouldn't have surprised her, given how much she loved to be in Cauthrien's position, but it always did.

And then the embarrassment was dropped as she felt Cauthrien rubbing, flicking her fingertip over _that_\-- sharp gasp, heat burning through her, coiling low and tight-- and Anora was moaning, her fingers rolling her own nipples between her forefinger and thumb. Cauthrien's gaze was heated, roaming over her that way, she didn't need to see it; she could _feel _where Cauthrien was looking.

Another moan and then her world seemed to narrow, shifting until all she could feel was the finger against her, the burn of Cauthrien's eyes, and the way that something was building so deep inside of her, building and building and then--

A moment of silence, her eyes opening as she gasped, as she felt her body tighten, clenching and shattering all around her. She fell forward then, catching herself just barely before she landed completely against her lover. A soft smile curved her lips, and she drew a deep breath as she felt Cauthrien moving her. They lay there for a moment, Cauthrien drawing Anora's hair to the side, pushing it over her shoulder to bare the nape of her neck. Soft kisses were placed there, not meant to arouse, just meant to comfort.

Feeling Cauthrien behind her, Anora reached back and took one of her knight's hands, drew it close and over her side. Cauthrien pressed that hand against Anora's stomach, holding her close, and Anora swallowed thickly. For a moment, the terrible weight was gone, and she was savoring it, knowing that after Cauthrien left on the march, there was a high chance that Anora would see none of them again-- Cailan, Loghain, or Cauthrien. She shivered.

Cauthrien must have felt the motion, because she pulled her up to sit then, and Anora watched as the knight moved to fetch the brush from the vanity. Both still unclothed, Cauthrien returned and knelt behind the queen. Her hands caught the mass of blonde hair, gently twisting it with her hands to fall down Anora's back. She used the comb then, slowly brushing out any tangles in Anora's hair. It was ritual, as much as anything else the two of them did. It was their private moment together, while Cauthrien combed and braided her queen's hair, helping Anora secure it before she swept her own dark hair back into a no-nonsense ponytail.

It was comforting, tender. Something she loved for Cauthrien to do, something Cauthrien _could_ do. Anora sighed, letting her gaze drift and stare blankly at the closed drapes across the room. No matter the weight of her duty, she deserved this. Her eyes closed at the feel of the brush lightly tugging on her scalp. She deserved this moment; there was no telling how long it would have to last her.


End file.
